


The Bard

by elm1939



Category: Gone With the Wind, Gone With the Wind - Margaret Mitchell
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-06
Updated: 2015-01-06
Packaged: 2018-03-06 09:38:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3129827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elm1939/pseuds/elm1939
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rhett and Scarlett make a visit to 1874 London, England - one-shot written for a Valentine's Day ficathon in 2013, see below the story for my prompts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Bard

London. Even a month ago, Scarlett couldn’t have imagined finding herself in the majestic capital of England.

 

Just four short weeks back, life was trudging along with no end to its tedious pattern in sight and Scarlett wondered if it would be like this always, saddled with the feeling that part of her was somehow missing. Immersing herself in her store and in the assistance of the helpless Ashley Wilkes, Scarlett hoped to keep the haunting ghosts at bay. But, she realized, those ghosts were what had made life meaningful. Perhaps she had realized it long before she lost nearly everything, though she never quite had the courage to salvage what had been slowly slipping from her fingers.  

Most of her raw, emotional wounds had healed during her recuperation at Tara the previous November, but the scars remained. Thankfully, she still had Mammy in her life, for her childhood nurse had not only been her comfort, she may have also been her salvation. Whenever Scarlett had presented a new plan to save her marriage, Mammy contradicted her, instructing her former charge against pursuit. If Scarlett’s husband wanted to return, it would be on his terms alone. And for once, Scarlett took to Mammy’s education, noting how disastrous her own choices had been in recent years. Mammy was a wise woman, and one of the few people to fully understand everyone involved in this predicament.

Scarlett had dreaded returning to Atlanta, but knew she must face her fears and set her life back on track for her sake, and for the sake of her children. After sleepless nights–nights she felt she should not have had to spend alone–she had to somehow will herself to rise for each new day. For seven long months Scarlett began her days with a lack of enthusiasm reminiscent of the time of struggle at Tara after the war. In both cases, she knew she had to keep swimming or risk sinking to oblivion. Scarlett O’Hara was not about to allow herself to fade from the life she had been given, but she couldn’t help but admit that there was a lot less to live for now that the light of her husband, daughter, and friend had left it.

But there was one yet remaining that could still truly illuminate her soul. He had left her, but she prayed, not forever. Rhett was serious, more serious than he had ever been before. He claimed not to love her anymore, and worse yet, she believed him. Scarlett could only pray that the flicker of light she saw in his eyes moments before he told her they could never start over would grow to a raging fire once again and match the one now burning inside her. Where there was light, there was hope.

Abiding by Mammy’s instructions, Scarlett granted Rhett his peace. She didn’t follow him to Charleston. She didn’t scheme to draw him back to Atlanta or Tara. Although, at Mammy’s urging, she did let him know what was in her heart. Scarlett was never one for composing long, rambling love letters; and she felt certain that all her declarations and pleading would only drive Rhett further away. So, Scarlett kept this in mind with each letter she sent.

She would write to him weekly, keeping him abreast of Wade and Ella’s lives, but never informing him of how often they had asked for him or how much they missed their stepfather. This was a risk she was not willing to take in the event that Rhett interpreted it as an attempt to draw him back to Atlanta.

Occasionally, she would discuss happenings in her own life, though rarely was there anything interesting to say. But, in each letter she would let him know of her aching need and love for him in the simplest terms. In what she would have declared a waste of a stamp in the past, she would at times only write this when there was nothing more to say:

 

_Rhett,_

_I miss you. I love you._

_Scarlett_

 

She declared this to him every week for over thirty weeks. Scarlett would have written to Rhett daily if she hadn’t been afraid of frightening him away. Although, she thought maybe she already had, for she never once received a response. The only contact he had made was in sending gifts to his stepchildren for Christmas and for Wade’s birthday. It was clear to Atlanta’s citizens that Rhett Butler had left for good and that his marriage to Scarlett was over. Perhaps they were right. With each week’s passing, and no sign of Rhett, a little chip of hope broke from Scarlett’s spirit.

        

That pain now seemed a lifetime ago. What a wonder it was to be an ocean away from the only home she had ever known, a home she would have missed dreadfully if not for the man sleeping beside her.

 

Shortly before they would have celebrated Bonnie’s fifth birthday, Rhett returned to Atlanta, shocking and thrilling Scarlett simultaneously. It felt as if her heart grew three times its original size the moment her ears picked up his pleasant voice. She rushed to the sitting room where he had been visiting with Ella, whose arms were tightly wrapped around him, unwilling to let the man she considered her father escape again.

Streams of tears were instantly released from Scarlett’s eyes, though she swiftly swiped them away. She wasn’t certain of the reason Rhett had returned, and somehow felt she needed to conserve the tears for later if she was to learn that he would now insist on a divorce. Rhett’s dark eyes met her glistening green ones the moment he heard the sound of her rustling skirts.

“You…you’ve returned,” Scarlett stated, her breath catching in her lungs. Her skin tingled all over despite the soaked-in warmth from the hot June sun.

Rhett began to rise from the settee, leaning forward to place Ella back on her feet, though she refused to loosen her grip, so he was obliged to lift her in his arms as he turned to Scarlett, still frozen in the doorway.

“Yes, but not for long,” Rhett replied blankly.

There it was, all that Scarlett had feared. If she hadn’t been wearing the constricting corset, her core would have slumped as if she had been struck in the stomach, for she soon lost all breath.

“Oh,” she exhaled deeply, her sweet smile dissolving to reveal a subtle pout.

Rhett shifted Ella on his hip, her head sweetly resting on his shoulder, her arms circling his neck.

“He belongs with us,” Scarlett thought, studying the scene of a gentle father and an adoring daughter. “How could he break Ella’s heart? Can’t he see how much she needs him? He made promises to me…to us. If he wasn’t going to keep them, he never should have married me!” Scarlett’s dormant anger was reawakening. It grew even stronger as she caught a flash of the old smirk Rhett would show her when he knew he had riled her up.

“I’m traveling to London in two weeks,” Rhett announced.

“London!” Scarlett exclaimed, her voice barely audible. She wanted to cry. She wanted to crumple to the hall’s floor, bury her face in her hands, and mourn the loss of her husband. They would now have the span of the ocean between them. Indeed, he must really want to be rid of her!

“I’d like you to come with me,” Rhett announced with simple honesty.

With those words, the chaos and torment pounding in Scarlett’s head immediately ceased. Had she heard him correctly? Why would a man who refused to see her, refused to write to her, and refused to speak with her now want her to join him a world away? Drawing her eyes from the carpet, she watched Rhett finally free himself from the much-grown, seven-year-old Ella. Leaning over to speak with his stepdaughter face-to-face, Rhett quietly asked her to leave so he could speak with her mother for a while. Ella instantly refused, fearful of him disappearing again.

“Ella. Do as you are asked,” Scarlett interjected in a maternal tone, desperate to understand what her husband had to say to her. Thankfully, Ella was an obedient child. As the red-haired girl reluctantly passed her mother in the doorway, Scarlett was finally able to bring motion to her immobile legs, taking a step into the sitting room. Scarlett drew a deep breath as her questioning eyes locked with Rhett’s steady stare, then turned to close the door.

 

What a whirlwind it had been since that day!

        

Scarlett opened her drowsy eyes to the sunlight hovering behind the curtains of her fine Mayfair hotel room and snuggled into the soft feather bed, letting out a wide, silent yawn. Rolling her head and twisting her upper back in the opposite direction, she stared jealously at her husband, wondering how it was that he could find sleep so effortlessly after such nights while her mind reeled for hours with thoughts of newly discovered sensations. Scarlett had an impulse to rouse him from his slumber, but decided against it, and instead carefully turned her body to face him. At least for a while, she wanted to watch him unguarded.

She had hoped the worst of the pain and self-destruction was behind him now, as some of the strength in his face had returned since the time he had first expressed his wish for separation. Evidence of the effects whisky had had on his body were somewhat dissipated as well. Scarlett traced his progressively strengthening jawline with her eyes, and wanted to–but didn’t–rest her hands on the gradually hardening muscles of his body. He had truly directed his life to a new and different course, removing himself from the wounding memories of Atlanta and successfully decreasing his reliance on mind-numbing spirits; but the one thing he decided he would never be able to relinquish was Scarlett.

So, it had worked, she thought as her lips formed into a gentle smile. Her words of love had fueled the fire over those long months and she was infinitely proud of her newfound patience, which she believed aided in drawing him back. Hopefully, she would know when and how to use it again on the proper occasion.

During Rhett’s restoration in Charleston, he had renewed some old friendships, including one with a gentleman who was now conducting the trade of cotton, tobacco, and other raw materials to England. This was legitimate work unlike some of the dealings Rhett had been involved with during the war. His friend had recently offered him a partnership, knowing of Rhett’s business acumen and experience during the war, and Rhett had accepted, finding some professional purpose to his life again.

Scarlett was grateful that Rhett’s new business partner had encouraged him to take the next voyage to England because it was the catalyst that brought her husband back to her. When Rhett had proposed this journey to Scarlett that June day in Atlanta, he revealed to her emotions he had expressed once before about going away to try and forget her, knowing it was a lost cause. And now, on the verge of putting an ocean between he and Scarlett, Rhett decided he could never live through that again without regret. He had done it during the war, suffering a terrible need to see her, knowing it would be weeks until he could possibly set foot on the same ground she tread. Then, he had realized that even a day separating them on the same continent was too far at this stage. Rhett was too old to fight against his fate any longer.

 

And Scarlett was too enamored to fight her instincts any longer. She slithered across the cool sheets to wrap herself around the warm body of her husband.

 

Despite their brief time together in Atlanta, and then in Charleston, before embarking on their trip, the Butlers had really reacquainted themselves on the steamship journey to England. Scarlett and Rhett spent hours on deck, enjoying the pleasant weather–when Scarlett wasn’t suffering from dreadful motion sickness–and sharing in necessary conversations away from all the distractions of their previous life. It recalled their honeymoon in New Orleans, but this time they shared between them full honesty and a concentrated focus on each other.

Sometimes other passengers were convinced, as they took notice of the couple, that it seemed as if Rhett and Scarlett were merely conducting impersonal business on this voyage because of the seriousness of their discussions. But, then they would be surprised by an eruption of laughter between the pair, and then later, the tenderness in the way Rhett would hold Scarlett’s hand as they ambled away from their point of meeting. By the end of the voyage, most curious passengers knew of the official relationship between Rhett and Scarlett Butler.

 

Pressing her chin to the space between Rhett’s shoulder and neck, Scarlett inhaled his distinctive, comforting scent and warmed his neck on her exhale. Scarlett was in love! How strange and wonderful it was to love the man to whom she was married–and for he to love her in return! She never once questioned her love for Rhett from the time she had discovered it, and now that she had him, it had blossomed. Based on her history, Scarlett should have lost interest in him from the moment he had invited her on this adventure because, once acquiring what she had wanted, that thing or person usually lost all value in her mind. She didn’t notice this unique change in pattern, but if she had, it wouldn’t have convinced her any differently that Rhett was more special to her than anything else she had ever wanted.

Pleased with the softness of the cotton sheets against her skin, Scarlett was grateful that Rhett’s destination was London, where she could find all the comforts of home, for she would have accompanied him to the ends of the earth for this second chance. Smiling, she thought how she normally would have argued that his timing had been bad and that she had too much work to do and that she wouldn’t have time to tie things up at her store or make arrangements for her children before her departure. Thinking back, she really had never done anything that Rhett had asked of her–except marry him. But on that recent June day, all she had done was nod her head and say “yes, I’ll go with you to London.”   

Scarlett felt Rhett stir and she drew her head back, waiting to claim his attention.

“Good morning,” Scarlett sung sweetly as he slowly opened his dark eyes. She stretched her neck forward to place her lips on his for a prolonged kiss.

“I was wondering what this was,” Rhett commented, caressing her knee, which was just part of what she had draped across his waist. “You look wide awake.”

“I couldn’t sleep,” Scarlett revealed with a sigh, still resenting his ability to avoid insomnia.

“What have you done to occupy your time?” he asked, running his hand over the soft skin of her thigh.

“I’ve been watching you,” Scarlett said, giving a mischievous smile, thinking it might make him a bit uncomfortable. Squeezing her arm tighter across his broad, dark chest and softly caressing his side, Scarlett said, “You’re free today,” noting that Rhett had completed his last business meeting the previous afternoon.

This was the first day Scarlett wouldn’t need to explore parts of London on her own, though she often chose to sleep the mornings away when Rhett was going to be absent. But, on days when she did venture out with him on his way to a meeting, Rhett would deliver her to places like the British Museum, where she would wander, observing wonders of the world such as the Rosetta Stone or ancient Greek sculpture. Before another meeting, he left her at the National Gallery to explore the works of the Italian Renaissance, where she found her share of shocking nude images, but discovered she wasn’t nearly as uncomfortable around them as she thought she should have been. On other days, she took to her favorite activity–shopping sprees–in the many fine London stores, seeking out items to decorate her home–and herself–but curbed her spending once realizing the expense of shipping everything home.

“How would you like to spend the day?” Rhett asked before receiving another peck on his lips from his wife.

“Whatever you want,” Scarlett offered unselfishly, kissing him again before allowing him to detail his plans.

“I thought we could take a stroll through Hyde Park. And we could visit Westminster Abbey, and even St. Paul’s Cathedral if you’d like to venture farther afield.”

“Churches?” Scarlett said, attempting to mask her disappointment.

“Historic churches,” Rhett clarified. “I remember you finding our New Orleans church visits rather diverting,” he recalled, bringing a reflective smile to her face.

“All right,” she conceded, kissing him yet again. “We’ll go to all the churches you wish to see.”

Before she had a chance to steal her next kiss, Rhett preemptively kissed her, sharing in brief, pleasing caresses to welcome the morning. He turned, rotating his body under her tightening leg to face her. And as often was the case between them since reconciling, their kisses eventually turned desperate, as if this was the last moment they were to share together. Rhett’s hand slid past her hip and up the length of her back to pull her closer, as if it were possible, continuing to satisfy Scarlett’s demands and eventually rolling her over to position himself between her splayed legs.

This throbbing desire for her husband was something wholly new to Scarlett. She had felt flashes of it in the past while receiving his kisses on just her palm or wrist, but now she understood, and was able to connect the sensation with the need.

“Rhett,” she spoke into his mouth.

“Hmm?” Rhett sounded in question, unrelenting in his mission.

“I think something’s wrong with me,” Scarlett was able to voice when his lips moved to her neck.

Rhett froze, turning his concerned gaze upon her face.

“What is it?”

“Well… Is it wrong to want you like this all of the time?” Scarlett questioned breathlessly, worried over the sanity her emotions and her own body’s needs that mirrored the inexplicable male madness she had always felt was unshared by females.

Rhett’s resonant laughter presented her with his answer and she had to fight a grin, still trained to protest any of Rhett’s carefree opinions on supposedly serious issues.

“No,” he answered with relief, giving a peck to her velvety shoulder. “Not, when we’re making up for lost time…and celebrating your awakening,” Rhett reasoned before returning to his focus to her lips, wiping away any of her previous concerns.

Scarlett wrapped her legs around him, signaling her need to expedite this process. Her newfound patience had not transferred to this aspect of life yet. Exhaling rapidly when he granted her wish, she prepared herself for the sensations she had been fascinated by since first experiencing them just over three years ago.

Rhett had a very poor memory of that drunken night, so early on in their reunion, he had shown great concern over Scarlett’s whimpers and cries that could almost pass for weeping, for she had never reacted to him in any way, at any other time during their marital relations. Perhaps he had been trained to think that there should either be a fanatical reaction or none at all. The many prostitutes Rhett had frequented throughout his life had considerably spoiled him. The dramatic, supportive, and praising reactions to his talents–the women only hoping for a financially generous repeat customer–had given him false expectations.

Scarlett had quickly grown annoyed with all his pauses to confirm that there wasn’t anything wrong. Unfortunately, she had been unable to curb her naturally emotional reactions to him; otherwise she would have used some superior method to express her satisfaction. It was an affecting time for Scarlett and during some intimate moments tears had escaped her eyes over the realization of what she had rejected and had nearly lost. Ultimately, they were tears of joy and celebration and unimaginable pleasure, though for Rhett, it was difficult to decipher.

His anxious questioning had finally ceased when she’d bluntly responded with a tinge of ire, “If there were something wrong, I’d let you know it!”

The intimacy she was learning to share with her husband had turned her senses topsy-turvy. But gradually, Scarlett had been detecting a leveling of her emotions to the point where she could exist fully present in the moment. On this early morning, her quiet moans gave way to halting breaths, leading up to a clipped, muted cry as the paralyzing electricity fleetingly spread throughout her body. Once the aftershocks subsided, and she could breathe with some regularity, Scarlett proudly thought that she was making some progress in her presentation, noting Rhett’s fervent reaction to hers.

He collapsed onto her joyously, as Scarlett moved her hands from his wide shoulders and gently threaded her fingers through his black hair, sighing with contentment.

“I love you. I love you,” Rhett repeated into her neck with whispers. “God, I love you.”

Scarlett noticed that after all the years of holding that truth inside, Rhett now let those words spill out as if his body were overflowing with them, but she appreciated every endearment as if it was the first time it had been expressed for it was still almost a surprise to her each time he uttered those words. Lifting his head, Rhett stared into her dancing eyes and Scarlett’s hands dropped to the sides of his neck.

“I love you, Rhett,” Scarlett whispered, beaming at him with a smile before lifting her head to give him a peck on his lips. After returning her head to the plush pillow, her wildly tangled black hair twisting in every direction, Scarlett looked up at her husband meditatively, caressing his prickly cheek. Her experimental mind had been awakened, pondering different methods to improve her pleasures. Scarlett’s thoughts were not uncommon for a woman just discovering the surprising new capabilities of her body. The brief euphoria she experienced for mere seconds was not enough. Surely she could extend it if they tried once more.

In a sugary-sweet voice, Scarlett requested, “Start again,” which produced a charmed, laughing grin on her husband’s face.   

“I do believe you’ve become insatiable. How very unladylike,” Rhett commented, rolling over to rest his head on his own pillow.

“Why, Rhett! I didn’t think you wished me to be a lady,” Scarlett responded with an impish smile, lifting herself up onto her elbow to lean over her husband. She lightly traced her soft fingertips over Rhett’s close-clipped black mustache and then briefly grazed over his lips and chin before leaving a trail down his chest. “Besides, you said it was perfectly normal,” she added silkily, throwing his recent opinion back at him.

“It seems it might be necessary to amend my original statement,” Rhett announced with an amused smile as Scarlett seductively pressed her lips to the sensitive skin below his ear, uninterested in hearing an amendment of any sort.

No, they might not have time for St. Paul’s Cathedral today.

 

By the time the Butlers had bathed, dressed, and filled their famished stomachs, it was midday. Rhett had decided to venture south of their hotel, first, in order to reach Westminster Abbey before they found themselves locked out for the day.

Their journey did not begin on the best foot, as they overheard a desk clerk boasting to a new guest about some famous past royal visits to the hotel, including the former French Empress Eugénie who had hosted Queen Victoria there in 1860. There was no way of avoiding thoughts of their namesake, who had come to be known as Bonnie Butler. Scarlett felt Rhett’s arm tense subtly, and she instantly stepped ahead and paused before him in the lobby, determined to interrupt his reminiscences of their daughter if they happened to be tinged with pain.

“Wait,” she requested, putting a hand to his chest. Scarlett swiftly inspected Rhett’s attire and pretended to tuck his shirt collar into his fine gray coat, lightly smoothing down the shoulders with her hands.

“There,” she stated, before giving him a peck on his cheek. When she drew back, her eyes gave him all the support he needed. Rhett chuckled at her unnecessary grooming; clearly knowing his appearance had been impeccable, but smiled to her in thanks for the distraction.

“So handsome!” Scarlett said with enthusiastic approval. “I’m hesitant to share you with the rest of London this afternoon,” Scarlett flattered with her most charming smile. As Rhett had recently discovered, when Scarlett truly loved a man, she would do or say anything to take his hurt away and offer him happiness and shelter in return. To be the object of her love was more perfect than he could ever have imagined.

As they stepped out into the light, Rhett placed his top hat on his smooth, dark head of hair. Scarlett tilted her violet lace parasol out of view to glance up to the heavens. There was not a cloud in the sky and the humidity-free July air was quite a pleasant change from that of the American South.

“Very refreshing,” Scarlett commented as she enjoyed the cool breeze fluttering across her face.

But as she inhaled the particulate-filled air, some of the pleasantness lessened. The pollution was a result of the great number of factories that led the city to prominence through the industrial age. And both her husband and father had made a significant portion of their riches by providing the raw materials to feed this manufacturing machine throughout England. Scarlett looked to the positive. At least it wasn’t stifling hot, which would have made the London air much less pleasant.

Scarlett had smartly packed a pair of fashionable gray-leather button boots with generously wide heels. Her other shoes would not have been appropriate for a day of walking. Although, her unrestrained yawns, which began as soon as she and Rhett reached Berkeley Square, signaled that maybe she was not fit for a walk today, either.

“Shall I carry you back to the hotel?” Rhett teasingly asked. “Yes, I agree, London _is_ quite dull,” he added facetiously. “I doubt you can even make it to St. James’s Palace.”

“I can, too,” Scarlett snapped, tempted to show her tongue, but thought better of it. “If I’m tired, it’s your fault!” Giving her best Mammy-like aside–so Rhett couldn’t hear her–she grumbled, “Keeping me up all night…” Lengthening her steps to display her bountiful energy, Rhett had to adjust his stride to keep up with her.

They indeed reached the palace, possibly in record time; Scarlett’s dogged determination in full exhibition. Scarlett found St. James rather drab on the exterior as they paused to view the red-bricked Tudor gatehouse. In her estimation, a castle should appear as those she’d seen in the illustrations of her daughters’ books; castles like that of the Loire Valley–with a pristine white exterior, surrounding moat, and towers fit for Rapunzel to let down her golden hair. These British royals did not have the best of tastes, Scarlett determined.

Not far from the palace complex was St. James’s Park, which she and Rhett cut through on their way towards Westminster Abbey, stopping briefly along the lake to observe the variety of ducks, geese, and swans. Scarlett linked her arm with Rhett’s before they turned to continue down the path scattered with weeping willows, moving at a more leisurely pace for the remainder of their journey.

Catching a glimpse of the Horse Guards parade and building, Scarlett decided that London was a very old and grand place, for she had not seen such expansive buildings in America. There were many more layers to this land with which she was not entirely comfortable. She had thrived on the newness of her birthplace, where your success was not entirely based on your pedigree, but on what you could create with strong hands, a clever mind, and sometimes, a little luck. She was reminded of her initial dislike of Charleston, which she realized had touches of a historic city such as London, where class and repute mattered above all else. It was ironic that she had opened her heart and had given her body to the fullest extent in a place such as this, where Scarlett felt the importance of propriety and restraint were held in very high regard.

“We should be just steps away, now,” Rhett announced, drawing Scarlett from her distant thoughts. “Are you sure you can make it?” he teased.

“I could run miles around you, Rhett Butler,” Scarlett tartly replied, removing the gloves from her warm hands.

“I’m certain you could,” he commented with complete confidence.

“Are you sure it’s nearby?” Scarlett asked as they walked a lane bordered on each side by four and five-story stone buildings. “I told you to bring the map.”

Rhett patted his breast pocket, ensuring Scarlett it was with them.

“No doubt we could get lost in a place this size. I’m completely turned around–”

They had just entered into an open square when Scarlett’s eyes first caught sight of the western façade of Westminster Abbey in its Gothic splendor, leaving her speechless. This was closer to the castles of her imagination than the Tudor style of Henry VIII’s time. The abbey’s significant western doorway seemed like a mouse hole at the base of the two looming towers above it. The stone, soiled by soot, must have been a brilliant white at one time. Rhett guided her in the direction of the entrance, watching Scarlett’s step for her as she studied the figures–men and women, young and old–carved above the door. She tilted her head back further to direct her eyes to the tops of the magnificent towers.

“I’ve never seen anything like it!” Scarlett exclaimed, finding her voice. “Are all their churches like this?”

“Oh, so now you’re interested in churches?” Rhett said raising his dark eyebrows.

“It’s all right. Have your fun,” Scarlett commented, giving her husband a side-glance. “But I am interested,” she said, handing her gloves over to Rhett.

“Very well,” Rhett continued contentedly, slipping the petite gloves into his pocket. “This is one of the most magnificent churches in London. I suppose that’s why royal coronations have taken place here for centuries.”

“Even Queen Victoria’s?” Scarlett asked with fascination, collapsing her parasol as they stepped toward the great wooden door.

“I believe so.”

Scarlett unconsciously raised her pointed chin regally as they crossed the threshold, giving her an air of superiority one couldn’t help but feel in entering such a prestigious building.

“Darling,” Rhett began, noting her swelling ego, “I know you carry yourself like a queen, but please don’t attempt to perch yourself on King Edward’s Chair. You might be dragged to the Tower of London, kicking and screaming, no doubt–and while I admit to finding it quite an alluring scenario–I don’t know if I could bail you out.”

Scarlett glared at him with annoyance, knowing Rhett to be teasing her over her comportment and her ignorance to the referenced chair, though her look had little effect in the dim light. But, he immediately melted her temper as they passed through the dark vestibule.

“My queen,” Rhett whispered without a hint of ridicule as he brought the back of her hand to his lips.

 

After an hour or so of exploring the abbey, Rhett was ready to step back into the sunlight, desiring a tour of the Belgravia district. Scarlett was actually the one asking to add a little more time to their visit, though she wasn’t so much interested in the historical, political, or religious aspects of the structure, as Rhett had been. Scarlett had hung back as Rhett delighted in spotting the graves of deceased writers, pointing out to her the resting places of Geoffrey Chaucer, one of the oldest graves, and of Charles Dickens, one of the most recent. She wondered why a church would honor such citizens, when she associated a church solely with religious figures. Scarlett wasn’t all that impressed, not having a vast knowledge of literature. However, she did find it fascinating, if a bit peculiar, that bodies were buried under the floor on the inside of a church–including those of kings and queens from long, long ago.

No, Scarlett was interested in Westminster Abbey for its design and décor: colossal Gothic arches along the nave, gold leaf decorating just about everything, marble floors and pillars, massive chandeliers, a mosaic floor at the altar, and so much stained glass, she’d never be able to take it all in. Rhett commented, as they were leaving, that if she were thinking of turning their home into a Gothic cathedral, she would not need to put too much money or effort into it. The house was already near her desired goal.         

“Well, it can always be improved upon,” Scarlett calmly replied, ignoring his irritating observations. If crowds gathered daily to admire the beauty of this building, surely it wasn’t wrong to model one’s home after it.

Scarlett squinted while her eyes adjusted to the brightness of the afternoon as Rhett guided her out of the north abbey door with promises of a view of where they would be dining tomorrow evening. Once learning of Scarlett’s presence, a new London business associate of Rhett’s had kindly offered a home-prepared meal and pleasant company for an evening at his townhouse, and looked forward to introducing Scarlett to his American wife, who would no doubt be anxious for stories from across the Atlantic.

“What’s his name?” Scarlett asked as they neared their destination a little over a mile away from Westminster Abbey.

“Edwin Buffington.”

Scarlett’s mouth twisted to stifle laughter, but found little success, instead erupting into a series of giggles that shook her entire body.

“Bu– Buff– Buffington?” she repeated on her third try, overcoming her laughter. Rhett watched her curiously, her face exquisitely lit from within. “Oh, don’t tell me you don’t find his name funny! Buffington!” Scarlett repeated speedily, her dimples exposed fully.

“I do believe this is the lack of sleep speaking, now,” Rhett commented on Scarlett’s silly reaction, but gave her a devilish grin, signaling his agreement. “Promise me you won’t have this reaction in his presence, my dear. I should hate to have my revived business career begin and end so swiftly. To have failed at my first honest attempt…” he said, shaking his head with exaggerated disappointment. “I would be hard-pressed to find such employment again. Then, you shall have to support me.”

“I’ll gladly support you,” Scarlett declared with a sunny, devoted smile, squeezing Rhett’s arm tighter, pulling closer to him as they entered a peaceful street lined with trees. This was Eaton Square.

“But I won’t make you lose your business associate,” she promised sincerely. “I much prefer you taking care of me. I promise you, butter won’t melt in my mouth.”

Scarlett hadn’t had much practice in the supportive wife role, but found she was taking to it quite effortlessly. Rhett’s visible appreciation told her she was giving him exactly what he needed during this crucial time. While she offered love and encouragement, Scarlett could also offer experienced opinions and advice.

“How old is this Mr. _Buffington_?” Scarlett asked, having fun with the name now to get it out of her system before tomorrow evening.

“About my age.”

“Oh, that old?” Scarlett reacted with surprise, picturing a man with the name of Edwin Buffington to be a white-whiskered, rotund man in his mid-sixties at the very least.

“Yes, that old, my pet,” Rhett returned drolly, Scarlett oblivious to the unintentional affect of her misspoken words. “Here’s his block. He’s at number fifty-four. It must be a few down,” Rhett determined as they stood at the corner of the lush, public green space.

“Fifty-four?” Scarlett questioned, scanning the dark brick and white plaster building in front of them. “Oh, there are numbers. Oh, and many doors,” she just now realized, counting the numerous columns that framed the doorways. “You mean, he doesn’t own the entire building?” she said, looking up in question. “That small portion is his? At least he could own the corner space. It’s nearly twice as big as the rest,” Scarlett determined as she looked at the townhouse directly before her. “Is he really so poor?”

“Does this seem like an area of extreme poverty, Scarlett?”

She shook her head, thinking it one of the loveliest parts of the city.

“Edwin is hardly poor. He owns several mills in Liverpool alone. Only a six-story house would seem small to you, my pet.”

“Oh… Well, I… This block is quite pretty,” Scarlett commented, attempting to resurrect her humility.

“Be sure to mention that tomorrow evening,” Rhett suggested.

“Oh, I know how to be quite charming, my darling.”

He nodded, signaling his complete agreement.

“Their home really _is_ the most _beautiful_ I’ve _ever_ seen. I’m _mighty_ jealous of the lovely garden square they can look out upon. And I’m _devastated_ that we’ll have to leave their wonderful city so very soon, for I really _could_ make it my home,” Scarlett performed in a syrupy voice.

Rhett’s booming laughter echoed off the tall, bricked buildings of the square as he turned to guide them towards Hyde Park.

“You are precious, my dear. Try as I might, I could never resist that delectable charm.”

 

Hyde Park on a sunny, warm afternoon was not shy of people. Londoners took full advantage of their outdoor spaces when the opportunity was presented. Scarlett and Rhett entered through the southeast Grand Entrance to the park, passing under the central arch surrounded by Ionic columns, and Scarlett couldn’t help but again hold her head high, impressed by the grandiose public space. Rhett let her choose their route, as there were multiple paths before them. Scarlett decided on a northwest, tree-lined trail that seemed well traveled.

As the gravel crunched underneath her boots, Scarlett decided she was glad that she had chosen this practical afternoon walking dress in white. For days, she’d had her heart set on wearing her new long-trained, emerald dress trimmed with pleated ruffles and embroidered with golden thread. The unfortunate stiff silk would have been nearly worn out as it trailed behind her on a surface such as this. She had smartly decided to save it for tomorrow evening’s visit to Eaton Square.

This glowing walking dress was another new favorite, the underskirt having a narrow, vertical-striped design matching the color of the violet bows and hemline decorating the voluminous white-as-snow outer layer, while the central layer of skirt was created out of fine white lace. Rhett had encouraged her to shed her black mourning dresses before their exit from Atlanta, wishing not to be reminded of their difficult recent history as they began their new journey together. Rhett had always hated seeing Scarlett in black, and for the third time, he had helped rid her of this physical display of mourning.

Rhett had offered her an approving smile as they silently walked down the path towards the Serpentine Lake ahead, and Scarlett knew that he thought her pretty at that moment, her iron-curled tendrils of black hair, peeking out from her hat, twisted in the breeze.

Scarlett caught sight of a crowd up ahead when her attention was returned to the path. It seemed they were gathered around a performance of sorts. She was about to make comment on it when a young couple passing in the opposite direction requested Rhett’s attention.

“Pardon me, Sir,” the blonde woman solicited in a northern American accent.

Rhett stopped, obliging her request.

“Oh, good, an American,” she commented thankfully after hearing his voice, as if the general citizens of this country did not speak English. “I don’t mean to interrupt, but you both appeared so at ease, as if you knew London well. My husband and I are seeking directions to…”

Scarlett ceased paying attention to the desired destination of the obvious newlyweds, and turned her eyes to the performance taking place just steps away. Releasing Rhett’s arm, she signaled that she would explore the gathering just ahead as Rhett retrieved his map courteously. He nodded in approval and Scarlett headed up the path to await her husband there.

As she approached the crowd, she could hear some of the words being spoken by a young, dark-haired man on a makeshift, low-to-the-ground stage. He paced, speaking with ardor, before a sparse crowd.

 

_…Had he the motive and the cue for passion_

_That I have? He would drown the stage with tears_

_And cleave the general ear with horrid speech,_

_Make mad the guilty and appal the free,_

_Confound the ignorant, and amaze indeed…_

 

After listening for a minute or so, Scarlett unwisely cleared her throat to capture the attention of the woman who stood next to her and asked, in what she thought was a quiet enough whisper, “What’s he doing? Is this Shakespeare? It sounds like Shakespeare.” Her many hours of half-hearted attendance at Melanie Wilkes’ Shakespeare Reading Circle may have been beneficial after all, she thought proudly.

The woman presented Scarlett with a cold expression, but nodded her head silently, immediately returning her attention to the performance.

“Why aren’t there any other actors? What’s the play?” Scarlett continued, not catching the woman’s obvious cue for silence.

This time, Scarlett’s words silenced even the actor before them–the young man staring incredulously in her direction. Now she understood her faux pas, and turned a deep red as the small crowd of onlookers glanced her way.

“Oh, I’m terribly sorry,” Scarlett choked out, her throat desperate for moisture.

Apparently, this man was in no mood for careless interruptions this afternoon, for without much provocation, he directed at her, “In civility thou seem’st so empty.”

“Pardon me?” Scarlett asked, taken aback, thinking her apology was sufficient enough for him to resume his performance.

“No word to save thee?” he asked after receiving some chuckles from the audience after his first observation. “Is your brain as dry as the remainder biscuit after a voyage? O teach me how I should forget to think.”

Incensed, knowing full well this young man was having fun at her expense, Scarlett was ready to bite back with a comment about this not even being a proper theater and he really should not expect such silent respect, but paused when she felt a restraining hand on her arm.

“Rhett!” Scarlett said, jumping with surprise. She looked up to him for assistance, but his attention was directed to the stage–and he was smiling!

“ _As You Like It, Measure for Measure,_ and _Romeo and Juliet_ , if I’m not mistaken,” Rhett commented to the hostile performer, clearly having witnessed this man’s exchange with his wife. The slight actor initially froze, perhaps a little intimidated by the large gentleman who was likely the husband of the woman he had just insulted, but bowed his head in answer after catching the amusement in Rhett’s eyes.

“But… But, Rhett?” Scarlett said, looking to him with pleading eyes. He only appeared to be waiting for another witty quip from the actor, as he placed his hands in his pockets.

“Have you anything from _Macbeth_?” Rhett asked, urging the actor on.

The man stood in front of the growing crowd, in thought, obviously unnerved by the challenge placed upon him in front of expectant onlookers. Then his eyes lit up and he scanned the audience, clearly pleased with the exposure this scene was providing him.

“Confusion now hath made his masterpiece!” the man quoted to great applause and Rhett’s quiet laughter.

“Oh– Why I– Of all the–” Scarlett growled, before making a left face to escape the humiliation. Scarlett wished to run, but the multitude of skirts surrounding her legs did not allow her that opportunity. Instead, she speedily walked down the path along the eastern edge of the lake, forcing herself not to cry.

Rhett swiftly followed.

“Scarlett,” he said calmly, grasping her left arm tightly when he finally reached her.

“Don’t touch me! Let me go!” Scarlett cried, attempting to shake off his clutching hand, not caring who witnessed this scene. While she was unsuccessful, Rhett obligingly released her arm but kept up his brisk pace beside her.

“How could you do that to me? You’re… You’re supposed to defend me! And instead…instead, you encouraged him!” Scarlett said incredulously as she marched onto the southern path of the lake, her dark curls bouncing like springs. “You should have… You should have called him out. You should have struck him for saying such things to your wife!”

“I don’t make it a habit of calling men out for having wit… Or on the occasion that my wife decides she’s going to attempt to start a disruptive conversation in the middle of one of Hamlet’s soliloquies.”

Scarlett pouted as she pounded down the path, her feet aching with fatigue.

“I apologized! I told him I was sorry. Really! He’s speaking in a park of all places!” Scarlett exclaimed, swinging her arm about and directing her palm to the heavens. “And this is how he responds?” Scarlett asked.

“In a rather entertaining way, in my opinion. His knowledge was quite impressive, actually,” Rhett said with surprise, and a touch of disappointment. “There are a lot worse things he could have said, but instead, he quoted Shakespeare. It was all quite harmless,” Rhett determined, overtaking her pace.

“Harmless!” Scarlett raged in disbelief. “He said those words to me!” Scarlett cried, moisture beginning to fall from her eyes. “And you did nothing but encourage him to continue insulting me in front of all those people!”  

Scarlett’s pace was halted as Rhett stopped in front of her, blocking her path. She stepped back in a huff, prepared to march in the opposite direction, but Rhett grasped her right arm with enough strength that she was unable to move, but he did not hurt her. He locked his apologetic eyes with hers. Offering her his handkerchief, he reached out for her parasol in exchange.

“I’d like to strike you with this!” Scarlett growled, gripping the parasol so tightly her knuckles turned white.

“You know I won’t deny you anything, my love, but maybe you can save that for later,” Rhett quietly suggested.

Fortunately, Scarlett took a moment to scan her surroundings, her darting eyes taking in all the potential witnesses to this scene. Her cheeks flushed and her grip loosened as Rhett carefully pulled the lacy weapon from her hand and replaced it with his handkerchief.

Rhett led her to a secluded bench that looked out on the lake full of small pleasure boats. Once seated, he grasped her clenched fists and brought them to his lips. Scarlett gave a frustrated sigh, unaffected by his tender action. Giving Scarlett time to compose herself, Rhett remained silent, collapsing Scarlett’s parasol for her.

Unable to look to her husband, Scarlett gave her attention to the boaters gliding across the glittering lake as she regained her breath and dried her cheeks. Some of the cheerful couples enjoying the day out on the water were surely lovers. Scarlett wondered if they were ever unkind to each other as she and Rhett had been. Today’s incident was a clear reminder to her of Rhett’s cruelty, intentional or not. She thought she’d seen an end to the madness as they started their new life together, but she was wrong. It was all so disappointing after the lovely, blissful weeks they had shared. In a way, it was difficult to know that they would never stop loving each other, because there was always the chance of a misunderstanding like this that could hurt like nothing else. She was now beginning to comprehend why Rhett had tried to escape from their life together on the day Melanie Wilkes had died.

Rhett took her right hand in his and covered it tenderly with his left creating a protective cocoon. Scarlett cherished the safety she felt in that small act and was able to return her attention to her husband seated beside her. Meeting his eyes, she only found love in their depths. That love was what freed her from holding back any truths that needed to be spoken between them–thoughts she would have been compelled to conceal in the uncertainty of the past.

“Oh, Rhett,” she began after a deep intake of air. She placed her left hand on top of his. “You’ve always made it so difficult for me to love you…but I do,” she said with a resigned sigh. “And I know you love me. I know you do, but… Oh, Rhett, back there… I was so frightened.”

“Of what?” he asked quietly, squeezing her hand.

“It’s just… It reminded me of…” She rapidly exhaled with frustration, unable to find the right words. “When we’re alone like this, I never question it. But, like today, in front of everyone– It seemed as if you didn’t care about me at all. And in…in Atlanta, you’d let anyone and everyone know that you didn’t approve of the things I did or the friends I kept. I’m sure everyone, including myself, wondered why you even married me, as if I wasn’t good enough for you–as if you agreed with that nasty actor–that I’m an impolite, stupid fool who doesn’t understand anything.”

“Well, you obviously understood the meaning of his quotes. Otherwise your feathers wouldn’t be so ruffled,” Rhett quipped.

Scarlett closed her eyes with a sigh; frustrated that he was again joking when she was trying to be serious. But, this was the way with Rhett, she realized. He always tried to lessen her anger with humor, but rarely did his attempts succeed. And it was always difficult for him to be earnest when a topic cut extremely close to the truth.

“Yes, I understood,” Scarlett said shortly. “I also understand that several park visitors believe my husband thinks I’m a fool,” she commented, looking down to her lap.

Rhett raised his hand to caress her cheek and return her green eyes to his. Before allowing him to speak, Scarlett continued.

“I know you think me smart. You’ve told me so. But I want…” Scarlett paused, taking in a deep breath and exhaling it with relief as Rhett ran his fingers along her jawline. “I want them to know it,” she revealed, pointing her open palm in the direction of the lake, indicating the public at large. “I want them to know you love me and respect me and think me smart. Otherwise–”

“You know I do,” Rhett said firmly, stealing a moment to speak.

“That’s just it. I know it–or at least think I do–but then you confuse me by practically announcing to the world that you think me stupid and that you don’t care if I’m insulted. So, that’s why I was frightened. I’m afraid… For a moment, I thought maybe you were mistaken and…and you…if not today, maybe someday you’ll realize that you don’t love me. And after this time with you…I truly couldn’t bear it. But, how could both sides be true? How could you love me, but then prove to the world that you don’t?”

The sight of an old gentleman walking down the path behind them briefly distracted Rhett’s attention. The man ambled along with the aid of a cane, sporting a gray suit that now appeared a few sizes too large for his frail, hunched-over frame. He was the type of man who would continue his daily walk until his body would refuse him one day; Scarlett thought that day was not too far away. Rhett stood, and without a word to Scarlett, he assertively walked in the direction of this man.

Scarlett’s mouth dropped open at Rhett’s abandonment. Here they were in the middle of a discussion on whether he truly loved her or not, and he leaves her side to seek out a stranger! Scarlett sighed, realizing this was another of Rhett’s frustrating habits. Unable to take her eyes off the scene, she couldn’t imagine what Rhett’s business was with this ancient man. After a brief introduction, the man turned his white head in the direction of the bench, giving Scarlett a kind smile. Rhett then took the man’s free arm and assisted him in walking towards Scarlett.

Standing before the bench as Scarlett remained seated suspiciously studying her husband’s face, Rhett spoke.

“Scarlett, this is Mr. George Hartley.”

Scarlett nodded her head in recognition of the man with the pale sunken cheeks, her toes twitching nervously in her boots.

“I hope you don’t mind, but I’ve informed him that we’ve been having a bit of a quarrel,” Rhett explained.

Scarlett’s eyes squinted and her brows rushed together, confused over why her husband suddenly decided to expose their personal troubles to a stranger.

“I think you believe I’m afraid to let anyone else know my true feelings for you, so you’ll have to let me now begin to prove you wrong. This clearly calls for a witness and this kind gentleman has agreed to my request,” Rhett said, presenting Mr. Hartley with a warm smile.

“Rhett,” Scarlett mouthed with barely a sound, hoping he would stop this foolishness.

“You see, Mr. Hartley, I’ve just realized the full extent of my failures as a husband,” Rhett revealed with candor. “The consequences of my actions have been grave, indeed. I honestly don’t deserve this woman, but I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to remedy that.”

“Rhett!” Scarlett exclaimed through clenched teeth, her cheeks reddening and her eyes darting between the two men. Mother of God, why was he doing this?

“Mr. Hartley, may I present my wife, Scarlett; the woman I love more than my own life. She’s the strongest, most spirited, most courageous, and most forgiving person I’ve ever met. And it’s a miracle that she loves me,” he concluded with potent sincerity.

“Rhett!” Scarlett exclaimed in full voice this time, torn between embarrassment and the warm tide spreading out to the tips of her limbs.

“Very pleased to meet you, Mrs. Butler,” Mr. Hartley said in a gravelly voice, reaching out his fragile hand out to her. Scarlett presented her pale hand to him, her face burning red. “I haven’t seen a lovelier woman this summer,” he claimed. “You’re a very lucky man, Sir,” he directed to Rhett.

“The luckiest,” Rhett replied, returning his attention to Scarlett and offering her a gentle smile that made her heart swell.

“Are you enjoying your stay in London? Your husband tells me it’s your first time away from America,” Mr. Hartley directed to Scarlett, clearly happy to have someone to speak with this afternoon. Often, he had passed through Hyde Park and wondered if he had turned invisible in his old age. It was always a good day when he found pleasant conversation, even if for a brief period of time.

“London has brought me much happiness. I’ve never been anywhere else like it,” Scarlett responded sweetly, slowly drawing her attention from her husband and giving it fully to Mr. Hartley. “I’ve enjoyed it, immensely.”

“Good. Good,” Mr. Hartley said, nodding his head. “And you’ve certainly brightened it up with your presence,” he complimented. “I suppose I should be on my way,” the gentleman said with a knowing smile, noting the distracted glances between Rhett and Scarlett, realizing they might want to be alone after such declarations.

“Let us walk with you back to the path,” Rhett offered.

“Yes, let’s,” Scarlett echoed, lifting her parasol as she rose with renewed energy. She sweetly linked her arm with Mr. Hartley’s to give him some support.

“Maybe we’ll meet again in your remaining days in London,” Mr. Hartley commented hopefully.

“Perhaps,” Scarlett answered with a smile.

“It’s always uplifting to meet a fine, young couple such as yourselves. I do hope I was of some assistance,” Mr. Hartley directed to Rhett, receiving an immediate nod of assurance. “I learned over forty-eight years of marriage, that it’s those small misunderstandings that can be the most worrisome. Just be honest with each other and all will be well,” Mr. Hartley advised Scarlett as he patted her hand. “It was so nice to meet you, Mr. and Mrs. Butler, on this most perfect of days. I do hope we meet again,” Mr. Hartley said as they reached the path.

Rhett and Scarlett silently watched him slowly stroll to the east for a minute or two before Rhett turned to Scarlett and offered her his arm. She lifted her parasol, and gladly linked her arm with her husband’s. They slowly moved down the path to the west, remaining silent until Rhett made a comment on what had just occurred.

“You see, my pet, I’m not afraid to reveal to others how I truly feel about you.”

“That’s one,” Scarlett said frostily as if she were going to keep count. “Shall we return to the stage so you can announce your undying love for me there? You’ll reach many more people at once.”

“Unless I’m interrupted by a loquacious American tourist,” Rhett jested.

Scarlett rolled her eyes, twisting her mouth to one side, not quite sure what _loquacious_ meant, but knew he was referring to her.

“I’m not going to strike a man whose performance has just been interrupted by my oh-so-tactful wife,” Rhett again explained his side of what had occurred earlier. “But, my actions were not intended to hurt you or make you appear as a fool,” he said in apology. “In fact, quite the opposite…though I adeptly failed,” he calmly stated in a rare admission of defeat.

Scarlett sighed, beginning to see why Rhett had not acted in a more defensive manner, though he needn’t have encouraged the taunting. It had not occurred to her that Rhett might have attempted to protect her in that action. Just as Rhett knew how to laugh at himself–if all else had failed–maybe he had hoped that Scarlett could have laughed along with the crowd to save face or at least be entertained by the experience, though she’d never had the sense of humor about herself that he possessed. It would take Rhett some time to learn that he couldn’t always apply his own defenses to shelter his wife.

“Don’t concern yourself with it,” Scarlett said with the flip of her hand. “It’s over now. Besides, you’re not the one who said those nasty things to me.” She had wanted to include, “…though it almost felt like you had,” but decided against it because she now believed that Rhett had somehow tried to defend her, even if it was in a way she did not understand. Looking up into Rhett’s eyes, she wondered if he could read her unspoken thoughts.

Giving a self-depreciating laugh, Rhett apparently had read her thoughts rather clearly.

“My dear, you’re going to have to be very patient with me. It seems you and I generally want the same outcome, but sometimes have very different ideas on how to reach it–though most times we’re much too similar for our own good. We’re bound to be thrown into another Shakespeare incident sooner than later.”

“Well, I certainly hope not!” Scarlett responded sternly.

“That should be your signal to me: _Shakespeare_. Whenever I mistakenly take you down the wrong path, just shout out the Bard’s name. It will be a good reminder to me–”

“That you’re not always right about what I need from you?” Scarlett interrupted before giving way to giggles after seeing the pained expression on Rhett’s face. “You know me so very well, don’t you, Rhett?” she commented with silky sarcasm.

“I’m afraid the trouble is that I know myself even better than I know you. It won’t be long before I inspire you, yet again, to turn one of your pretty parasols into a weapon against me.”

“Well, don’t worry, Rhett Butler, I’ll be sure to call on Mr. Shakespeare when necessary. I only hope I can stop you before you really make me mad. I would so hate to damage a darling parasol because of you. Just don’t forget the promise you made to me before your new, very old, gentleman friend.”

“I know you’ll hold me to it,” Rhett said with certainty.

“Absolutely,” Scarlett answered with a nod. “And, now, you _do_ love me? You’re certain?” she teased with affection, revealing her dimples. Rhett’s gaze met her pale green eyes and nodded.

“Good, because I have no intention of allowing you to leave me again,” Scarlett expressed firmly.

“Oh, no? Pray tell me how you’re going to force me to stay,” Rhett questioned with raised eyebrows.

“Well, I’ll… I’ll lock you in a tower,” she decided playfully.

“Or you could confine me to your bed. I’d much prefer that.”

“To my…?” Scarlett began. Rhett waited for the implication to sink in, and was not disappointed when Scarlett rapidly inhaled a gulp of air and tilted her parasol to block his view of her reddening face. Listening to his deep, but quiet, laughter, Scarlett couldn’t help but smile at his audacity to mention such a subject in this very public space. Soon, her giggles joined his laughter as they continued down the gravelly path.

“I’ll surely lock you in the tower for that comment–the only accommodation being a coarse stone floor, mind you,” Scarlett teased with feigned propriety. Slowly, she tilted her parasol back to observe her husband. “Thank you for introducing me to Mr. Hartley and saying those sweet things,” Scarlett complimented.

“So, who would you like to choose for your first public declaration?” Rhett asked, studying the walkers approaching them.

“My declaration! I hardly think that’s necessary,” Scarlett stressed. “When have I ever hidden my feelings or let it be known to the world that I thought you a fool?”

“I’ll give you one name: Ashley Wilkes.”

“Oh,” Scarlett responded quietly, then remained confused, “but what do you mean _Ashley_?”

“I mean, my dear, that I was made a fool from the day we married. When every citizen of Atlanta, and beyond, knows that your wife loves Ashley Wilkes and not you, life can be quite trying and painful. Even now, I wonder what they think,” Rhett said pensively.

“Oh, I didn’t know,” Scarlett said regretfully. “I never thought about what that would mean to you.” After a moment’s thought, she added with some irritation, “And how would I have known?” realizing that she always thought Rhett indifferent to the situation.

“No, you’re correct. Apparently I’ve been quite proficient in the role of the disinterested husband. I see that now,” Rhett confessed.

“Oh, but they’ll know now–now that we’re really together,” Scarlett decided with confidence.

“Will they?” Rhett asked distantly, as if imagining the updated scenario in his mind.

“I’ll make public declarations if necessary,” Scarlett proposed enthusiastically, hoping to lighten Rhett’s mood.

“And where will you start?”

“Hmm… Oh, I know! Dr. and Mrs. Meade. I suppose it’d shock them the most. Before Melly passed, Dr. Meade told me not to make any confessions to her about Ashley, as if he believed something had really happened between us,” Scarlett sullenly disclosed.

Rhett gave her a look as if to remind her that something had happened between she and Ashley.

“Well, you know nothing happened that was very serious! And nothing’s happened since I’ve been married to you!” Scarlett exclaimed defensively, not differentiating her definition of infidelity with Rhett’s.

Rhett gave her another suspicious look over her last comment and Scarlett returned his stare confidently.

“I have nothing to hide from you,” Scarlett honestly stated. “I suggest that your first Atlanta confession should be to Ashley, himself. Despite what Melly told him–though I don’t quite understand how she knew you loved me since she couldn’t even see how I felt about her or Ashley for so many years. But, Ashley doesn’t believe you care for me. And you’ve given him, and me, plenty of reasons to believe that,” Scarlett frankly expressed. “He said Melly was mistaken where you were concerned. Maybe you should settle it,” Scarlett proposed, receiving brooding silence from her husband in reply.

Wanting to move away from this sensitive subject, her smiling face magically returned and she said, “It would be fun to tell everyone in Atlanta how much I love my husband. I can’t wait to see their smug faces turn green. How wrong they were about us!” Scarlett giggled. “Maybe I’ll kiss you right in front of all of them,” she boldly imagined. “Right on the mouth,” she said, turning her covetous green eyes to Rhett. He looked on her approvingly as Scarlett slid her hand down his arm to clasp her hand with his. And in a sort of public declaration, Scarlett lifted his hand to her mouth and held it to her tender lips for a long second.

“Oh, what’s that?” Scarlett asked as her attention returned to the vista before them. “That large, shining structure over there?”

Rhett thought for a moment, last having visited London when this edifice did not exist.

“Oh, I think… Do you remember the desk clerk at Claridge’s mentioning the new Albert Memorial when you were asking about places to visit? I believe that’s what it is.”

“Albert? As in Prince Albert? Victoria’s Albert?” Scarlett asked, recalling Queen Victoria’s husband who had died in 1861.

“The prince consort, himself.”

“Let’s go see it,” Scarlett suggested, entranced by the light illuminating the golden spire.

“Aren’t your feet tired?” Rhett asked, evidently noticing Scarlett’s reliance on the support of his arm.

“Terribly, but we’re so close. You can summon a cab to take us back to the hotel. Or you can carry me back,” Scarlett added coquettishly.

“I think a cab will be in order considering your substantial appetite since we arrived,” Rhett teased, before receiving a light pinch on his arm from his wife. It was true; her dresses had been slightly tighter recently as her appetite had returned since arriving in London. Over the course of Rhett’s absence during the last year, Scarlett had found little enjoyment in food. Then, on their journey across the Atlantic, she feared indulging in much of anything in reaction to her seasickness.

“Tell me about Prince Albert,” Scarlett requested.

“He was the German cousin of Queen Victoria. He and Victoria were married around eighteen forty, I believe. And they had nine children.”

“Nine children! I can’t even imagine!” Scarlett exclaimed in horror. “Oh, poor Victoria,” she sighed in empathy.

         As they approached the memorial, Scarlett was again struck at the expansive size of London’s many monuments. It seemed they did nothing small, which admittedly paralleled Scarlett’s personality. The Gothic Revival canopy grew taller and more was revealed as they drew nearer. When they entered the open space from their path, Rhett noticed the series of steps leading up to the monument.

“Shall we just look from here,” he suggested, keeping Scarlett’s weary feet in mind.

“No, they don’t appear very steep. I can make it,” Scarlett replied, hoping to get closer to the bejeweled centerpiece. After reaching the first plateau, Scarlett noticed the blocks making up the decorative surface. Scarlett was charmed by the light and dark stones that created a pattern under her feet.

“We should do this on the front path,” Scarlett suggested in relation to the walk up to the front door of their Atlanta house.

She and Rhett climbed beyond a bright white allegorical sculpture depicting a camel and a Cleopatra-like figure, and up to the level of the Frieze of Parnassus, which celebrated artists with their life-sized images in sculpture. Rhett tended to focus on the frieze, studying the names of the musicians, poets, painters, architects, and sculptors, while Scarlett gave her full attention to the gold-leafed canopy decorated with jewel-toned nuggets and colorful mosaics, so detailed they could have passed for paintings.

“It appears as if something is going to placed below the canopy; a statue of the man himself, perhaps?” Rhett wondered, as Scarlett studied the open space, and nodded in agreement. “The Queen commissioned this memorial soon after Albert’s death, from what I understand,” Rhett commented as they reached the southern portion of the monument.

“That was good of her,” Scarlett decided. “He died over ten years ago, didn’t he?”

“And Victoria’s still in mourning,” Rhett replied, commenting on the fact that the queen still dressed in black.

“She must have loved him, terribly,” Scarlett inferred, glancing above one corner of the frieze at a statue of a beautiful, cloaked woman wearing a wreath of wheat in her waved hair.

“Albert died at the age of forty-two.”

“Oh, I didn’t realize how young he was!” Scarlett responded to Rhett’s information. She stood for a few moments, not really focusing her attention on any aspect of the monument, as she pondered such a loss; an ache formed in her chest.

“Rhett, promise me you won’t leave me like that. I couldn’t bear it,” she begged, taking his hand in hers.

“Now, you’d like me to plan my death? I’m afraid it’s impossible,” Rhett commented lightly.

“Oh, don’t joke.”

“Well, I’ve surpassed forty-two. In your opinion, I am now quite old. I could be taken any day now,” he continued to tease.

“Stop. When have I ever called you old?” Scarlett questioned, confused at his reference. “I’ve never seen you that way,” she stated directly. “I expect you to promise me at least…at least thirty more years.”

“Not forty?” Rhett questioned, eyebrows raised.

“Why not forever?” Scarlett replied in a soft voice.

“I promise you, I shall try like hell. The devil himself is going to have to drag me away from you,” Rhett said, kissing her hand. He then added, “We never know what tomorrow will bring, so let us enjoy today.”

Scarlett gave him a bittersweet smile, agreeing with that sentiment; a shared thought of Bonnie went unspoken between them. If life had taught Scarlett one thing, it was that loved ones could be taken away so abruptly.

“If I were to die, would you build a monument like this for me?” Scarlett questioned lightly.

“No,” Rhett answered simply.

“No!” Scarlett exclaimed with shock, certain of his devotion to her.

“No, my monument to you would be more like the Taj Mahal.”

“What’s that?” Scarlett questioned with interest.

“It’s a mausoleum in India, made of brilliant white marble. It’s one of the most beautiful structures in the world. An emperor from the seventeenth century built it in honor of his wife and their great love. I’ll have to seek out an illustration of it for you. Maybe one of London’s museums has a painting of it?” Rhett wondered aloud. “But, that’s what I would build for you.”

“It’s much grander than this?” Scarlett asked with a pout.

“Much grander,” Rhett quietly stated with sincerity.

A smile slowly built on Scarlett’s rose-colored lips as she imagined a monument even more magnificent than this, and with pure devotion, she said, “I do love you, so much.” Linking her fingers with his, she squeezed his hand and studied his face. Was there a hint of moisture in those dark, formerly impenetrable eyes? Scarlett had spent years trying to find a position of power and a weakness in his armor. It amused her to discover that all she had needed to do was offer her love. How simple it all seemed in retrospect. Scarlett wasn’t going to let this rare opportunity pass without some fun.

“Why, darling, have you gotten some dust in your eyes? I did return your handkerchief to you, didn’t I? If you retrieve it for me, I could possibly give you some assistance in removing the particles.”

Rhett turned his head away from her playful, overly concerned expression, and ran his fingers across his eyes out of her view.

With a subtle clearing of his throat, Rhett said, “No. No. I think they’ve been flushed away. It’s high time we removed ourselves from these dry and dusty paths, don’t you think?” Scarlett nodded with satisfaction, struggling to hide her amusement by biting her lip.

Rhett then asked, “So, are we going to have a small version of this memorial overtake our yard?”

“Yes, and _your_ statue will be the central figure,” Scarlett emphasized. “If Atlanta’s citizens didn’t already think you the conceited thing you are, this would change their minds.”

Rhett’s laughter fell warmly on Scarlett’s ears as they descended the steps. He was right; no one knew what tomorrow would bring. Scarlett was going to make a conscious effort to appreciate these little moments in her life, starting with her love of the sound of Rhett’s laughter.

As they descended the last section of steps, Rhett directed his attention to her and quoted:

 

_My bounty is as boundless as the sea,_

_My love as deep; the more I give to thee,_

_The more I have, for both are infinite._

 

“Say it again,” Scarlett requested, her green eyes glowing. How sweet of him to heal her day of Shakespearean wounds with an equivalent salve.

“Do you need me to translate?” Rhett offered genuinely.

“No, I understand your meaning,” Scarlett said with a breathtaking smile, squeezing his hand tightly.

After repeating his sentiments, Rhett reluctantly released her hand and stepped to the road to summon a cab. Scarlett was slightly disappointed that she would not have the heart to seek revenge for today’s incident, which would have thrilled her in the past. As she had marched angrily away from her husband, she had plotted to employ Ashley Wilkes’ wealth of Shakespeare knowledge to seek out cruel, insulting quotes to fling at Rhett when he deserved it. With more consideration, Scarlett would have realized that Rhett would have only been entertained by her attempts. Truly, the only intangible weapons with enough strength to wound Rhett Butler would be her own cruel words, and she had no desire to hurt him anymore.

 

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for a Valentine's Day ficathon at our yahoo group in 2013. We all received prompts and mine was provided by Rue de la Paix, and is as follows:
> 
> 1.For the first time since reconciling, Rhett has to go away for business, and Scarlett joins him in London.  
> 2\. Set after the book.  
> 3\. Sunny, funny, angsty, smutty, or a combination of any or all of them.
> 
> This was the first piece I had written in a long, long time, so I may have been a little rusty. I just saw a PBS program on the London hotel, Claridge's, last night (the hotel I had used in this story). The hotel reminder prompted me to post the story. I hope you enjoyed it.


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